Three Nights of Magic
by animegirl19791
Summary: Merthur fairytale AU. A retelling of the classic story of Cinderella, with a few slight alterations: One, Cinderella's name is Merlin. Two, Prince Charming's name is Arthur. Three, Fairy Godmother's name is Gaius (ha!). Rated T for boy/boy love, possibly M in the future. Enjoy and please review!


**Three Nights of Magic**

**AUTHORS NOTE: Hello, my jolly fans (and those who are not so jolly but I love all the same). I know most of you are still awaiting an update to my Potterlock series, and I also have a commission in the works, but since I've spent the last week in Wales, then this weekend watching Merlin, I just had to make a start on this as well. This started out years ago as an original story I was working on, but I was struck by the idea to Merlin-ify it. As it's a fairytale AU, some of the original family connections from the show have been redistributed to other characters, some of which I've made up completely. This is currently planned to be a non-smutty fic, but if by the end you wish for an extra chapter containing some hot Merthur action, just let me know.**

**I'd also like to just make one sombre note here – RIP to the marvellous and wonderfully talented Cory Monteith. It's so sad that someone so young and idolized by so many other young people should be taken so soon. Sincerest thoughts to his family and Lea Michele.**

**As always, please review, and I'll endeavour to post the next chapter to this **_**and**_** my Potterlock ASAP (and my commission, others of which are greatly welcomed if wanted). Much love to you all!**

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The announcement that King Uther and Queen Ygraine of Camelot had given birth to a son was greeted by joy and jubilation by the whole kingdom. It had been the concern of many for some time that the Queen would never be able to bear a child. Some people gossiped that she and the King had sought the help of a sorcerer or witch to help them conceive, but nobody paid much mind to such vicious rumours. All that mattered was that Camelot was no longer without a rightful heir to the throne.

Camelot was the greatest of the Five Kingdoms of Albion – the most powerful and the most prosperous – so it was unsurprising that the news of a son born to Uther and Ygraine sparked the interest of every neighbouring King and Lord with an infant daughter who could be presented as a prospective bride for the prince. It was tradition that after the eighteenth birthday of any prince or princess born of royal stock, there would be three nights of celebration – feasts, balls, ceremonial performances – after which they would choose a bride or bridegroom from the young noblewomen or men presented to them by the neighbouring gentry and royal households.

One such nobleman was Lord Gorlois le Fay – the ruler of a small but well-respected town just outside of Camelot called Cambia. He and Uther had retained a respectable friendship for many years, but Gorlois knew the marriage of their offspring would ensure him true alliance and protection from the powerful King. Gorlois's own wife, the Lady Vivienne, was also heavily pregnant with child. If the child was born a girl, it would be the perfect match. With a little influence from Gorlois onto Uther, then Uther onto his own son, the boy-prince of Camelot would surely choose _their_ daughter to be his wife.

The night of the baby's birth fell dark and stormy. The physician had been sent to attend the Lady Vivienne by Uther as a gesture of friendship, as he had been the man to safely deliver his own son. Vivienne had been in labour for a good hour already by the time the physician, Gaius, arrived, and was growing tired and distressed. It took a further thirty minutes for the baby to be born, but nothing could be done for Vivienne. Blood loss and exhaustion took her, leaving a tiny, crying infant boy as the fruit of her long and painful efforts.

Lord Gorlois was distraught and furious. Not only had he lost his beloved wife, but there was not even the daughter he'd longed for to soften the blow of his loss. He flinched away from the child presented to him by the physician, his mind working quickly. Nobody knew the gender of the child besides himself and Gaius, and he was certain he could pay the elderly physician for his silence in that matter. Some might say his plan was the act of a desperate and broken-hearted man, others the work of a callous and cold-blooded power-chaser. Whichever it was, he ordered Gaius to take the child to the local orphanage, and swap him for an infant girl. Gaius was horrified by the idea – he had known the Lady Vivienne well in life, and knew she would be appalled and heartbroken to know her husband was treating her baby so shamefully so early in his innocent existence.

"My Lord," he beseeched the grief-stricken man. "Might I be so bold as to suggest an alternative fate for the child?"

He put forth the idea that, if he could lay claim to a girl-child of the same tender age from the orphanage, might the boy not remain in the custody of his father, as perhaps a cook's assistant or stable lad, rather than be tossed aside like a soiled handkerchief. He could even be a suitable playmate for the foster child. At first Gorlois was strongly opposed to the idea. What if someone were to guess the boy's true heritage in his appearance? But Gaius tentatively reminded him that surely his wife would not want the boy cast aside. Besides, with him nearby, a part of her would remain alive in the wake of her death.

Eventually, Lord Gorlois agreed to Gaius' proposal. Wrapping the child in a swaddling cloth, Gaius placed him in the care of the wet nurse who sat waiting in the servants' quarters. Warning her that she must carry the secret to her grave, upon pain of most grievous punishment, he then hastened to the local orphanage to select a replacement child, repelled as he was by the plan he himself had concocted as an alternative to Gorlois' deplorable orders. As the will of fate would have it, one of the infant girls bore the almost exact same dark hair and azure-blue eyes as the baby Gaius had just delivered. He took the baby back to Gorlois, who proved satisfied with the selection, then asked Gaius to leave him alone to mourn his wife and bond with his new "child".

It was not uncommon for royalty or noblemen not to reveal their new-born child to the public eye immediately, so there wasn't any suspicion when Gorlois chose to keep his daughter's appearance a secret. The only people allowed to see her were himself and the wet nurse, since Gaius had returned to Camelot, trying his best to forget the whole unsavoury incident.

Lord Gorlois named his new daughter Morgana le Fay, leaving the naming of his true son to the wet nurse, a young woman named Hunith. She named him Merlin, and as he grew out of his suckling stage, she found herself growing increasingly fond of the little boy. By the time he could totter about on his chubby little legs, he was calling her "Mama", and she in turn called him her son.

The girl Morgana grew into a beautiful child, with a pale, cold beauty that even her adoptive father had not anticipated. Nobody who met her gave even a thought to the idea that might not be from noble stock. With her white skin, clear blue eyes, dark mahogany hair, proud stance and regal profile, not one person guessed that she had come from such humble beginnings as she had. One thing was also certain – Gorlois' fears that somebody might see his likeness in Merlin proved completely unjustified. The child was awkward and clumsy, with a thick mop of jet-black hair, a wide, unabashed grin, and rather protuberant ears. Despite this, he was also cheerful, friendly, and endearing to almost everyone who met him, with a delicate, almost elfin bone structure to his face that Hunith swore he'd grow into handsomely.

While Morgana was snobbish and spoiled – the result of her foster father's endless indulgence to her every whim – she and Merlin got along rather well. When they were both young, they'd played in Lord Gorlois' manor gardens on sunny afternoons – enjoying Hide-and-Seek between the flower bushes, games of Tag in the courtyard, and – if the weather was bad – long hours sketching and piecing together jigsaws in the library. As they grew older, Merlin's presence became needed more frequently in the kitchens or the stables, while Morgana spent her hours learning mathematics and literature with her tutors.

Gorlois' plans for his daughter to marry the young Prince Arthur had not altered. When Morgana turned seven years old, he wrote to Uther asking to permit them a private visit so the two youngsters might get to know each other. Uther gladly accepted the offer. It was an exciting time for Merlin, who Morgana requested accompany them in case she was bored at any point. Always keen to please his little darling, Gorlois had permitted Merlin to tag along, on the strict condition that he stay in the servants' quarters unless summoned for.

At seven years old himself, Merlin could not remember a more thrilling experience than their arrival at the gates of Camelot. The city was twice the size of the one he'd grown up in, and many times more busy. He longed to explore the marketplace, the sprawling woods and gardens that surrounded the palace, and even more so the palace itself – a hundred rooms and halls so grand and regal it made the le Fay manor look like a hovel. However, he was restricted by his master's rules not to go wandering off or sticking his nose in places he didn't belong. Still, he was permitted to help the other servants of the palace, which was almost an adventure in itself. The Camelot palace kitchens were enormous compared to the stuffy stone room he was used to in Cambia. He was still too small for many of the more important tasks, so he was sent on errands such as picking apples, pears and berries from the fruit gardens, or else sweeping out the stables with a small broom, under the careful supervision of the head footman. He was useful and the other servants liked him, but since Morgana had found a more suitable playmate in the daughter of one of the handmaids – a little girl called Gwen – he had rather a lot of spare time to sit around and do nothing.

Having heard a lot of talk about him from both the palace staff and Morgana herself, Merlin was extremely curious about the young prince of Camelot. He seemed to be all the courtiers and kitchen staff could talk about – Prince Arthur this, Prince Arthur that, Prince Arthur's mastered this, Prince Arthur excels at that, bla bla bla. Merlin was keen to meet this oh-so-great young prince, though he knew there was little to no chance that he would. He'd _seen_ him – when they'd been greeted by the King and Queen on the steps of the palace courtyard – but only for a split moment. He'd caught sight of a boy around his own height with golden-blond hair, blue eyes and a bored expression, hidden partially behind his mother's skirts. He hadn't looked all that pleased to meet Lord Gorlois or Morgana, and had disappeared as soon as the attention had been diverted from him.

Three days after their arrival at Camelot, Merlin snuck out of the kitchens to explore a little more of the gardens. The cooks and maids were preparing a great feast for that night, so nobody noticed him slip away. The gardens were incredible – rose bushes taller than he was, herb shrubs that sent exotic smells wafting through the air, and long grassy paths perfect for racing down. Merlin was creeping round the labyrinth of sumptuous strawberry bushes and stocky lemon trees, when he found his path barred by a small, sullen figure crouched behind one of the bushes.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked pompously, for Merlin now recognised the surly face as the one he'd seen on the steps when they arrived. Now, having had absolutely no contact with anyone more important than Lord Gorlois, Merlin knew little to nothing about the appropriate way to address Princes. So he just grinned broadly and shrugged, saying simply, "Exploring."

Arthur had looked bemused for a moment. He'd met few boys his own age, and so was unsure of what to say to this cheery little fellow who'd almost bulldozed him over. After it became clear Arthur was at a loss, Merlin decided to break the silence.

"Want to race?"

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Race. Y'know," Merlin gestured to the long green path that ran alongside them, flanked by pretty cherry blossom trees. "Running."

Arthur looked unconvinced. "Father says I'm not allowed to play with servants."

"Oh," Merlin said, disappointed. "Well, who _do_ you play with?"

Again, Arthur paused. He wasn't used to being asked so many questions by somebody with so much dirt on his shirt and trousers. "No one."

"Oh," Merlin said again. "That's boring."

Arthur nodded solemnly. "It's Father's rules. I'm only allowed to speak to servants if I need target practice."

Merlin wasn't sure how to respond to Arthur's downbeat excuse, so he just stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Merlin."

Arthur looked at Merlin's hand as though it might bite him, before decided it was safe enough to extend his own and shake it. "Prince Arthur Pendragon."

"Long name," Merlin laughed. "Can I just call you 'Arthur'?"

"You're supposed to call me 'Your Highness', or 'my Lord'," said Arthur. "Father says."

"But he's not here," Merlin reasoned, gesturing behind him to the deserted garden. "C'mon, let's have a race. Bet you can't beat me."

For the first time, a smile flitted across Arthur's face. He was a handsome little boy when he wasn't scowling. "I've been training to be the best since I was born," he said. "I'm fast."

"So am I," Merlin said. "That mean you want to?"

Arthur gave another, slightly less anxious, glance towards the palace, but nodded and stepped out from behind the bush. The two boys lined themselves up at the beginning of the path, and Merlin clenched his fists, preparing to sprint.

"Okay," he said. "Ready—"

"Set-go," Arthur interrupted, and set off like a bullet down the path.

"Not fair!" Merlin yelled, but he was still grinning. He hurtled after Arthur as fast as his small legs could go, but Arthur still reached the end of the line of trees way before he made it there himself.

"Cheater," Merlin accused him, poking in in the chest, pleasantly surprised to see he was still smiling.

"Do you want to go again?"

"Only if you're ready to lose," Merlin taunted him. "I'm definitely going to beat you this time."

He didn't. Not when they started at the same time, not when Arthur started after him, not even when Arthur let him reach the middle of the path before setting off running. He was a winner through and through.

"Told you," Arthur said proudly, puffing out his chest while Merlin huffed and wheezed on the ground beside him. "I'm the best."

"You. . ." Merlin struggled to think of any of the words he'd heard the footmen use with each other back at Cambia. "You're a prat."

"And you're a loser," Arthur crowed, nudging Merlin's side with his boot. "Merlin the Loser."

"I'm _not_ a loser," Merlin pouted, scrambling to his feet and trying to land a punch on Arthur's arm. Arthur darted to one side and, quick as a wink, grabbed Merlin's head, locking his arm round the dark-haired boy's neck and grinding his knuckles against his scalp.

"Owwww!" Merlin protested, flailing his arms about but unable to break Arthur's grip.

"Say it," Arthur smirked. "Say you're a loser. Go on."

"I'm _not_— owwwww! Okay, I'm a loser, I'm a loser. Get _off_ me!"

Arthur laughed and release his prisoner, and stumbled back to the ground with a rather undignified _bump_ on his rear end.

"One day I'll beat you," he said.

Arthur smiled down at him and Merlin couldn't help grinning back. He liked Arthur. He was pompous, more than a bit full-of-himself, but he was fun. Merlin was about to suggest they play Hide-and-Seek, when a loud voice called angrily from a short distance away.

"Arthur! What are you doing?"

Arthur sprang to a straight-backed, almost military, position and stared nervously up at the rather displeased face of his father, who was striding closer to them. Merlin picked himself up off the ground and tried to look invisible.

"Arthur, you are supposed to be at your lessons," Uther Pendragon said. "What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing, Father," Arthur shook his head.

Uther's attention was the drawn to Merlin, who was trying to wipe a grass-stain from the elbow of his tunic. "Who is this?"

Arthur didn't say anything – it looked as though he was searching for an answer that wouldn't make his father angrier. Merlin decided to help him out.

"I'm Merlin," he said loudly, causing both the King and Arthur to look at him, shocked.

"You speak out of place, boy," Uther said severely, then, to Arthur, "He is a servant?"

Arthur, avoiding Merlin's gaze, nodded. Uther sighed angrily. "What have I told you about playing with servants? You are a prince, Arthur. You will be King someday – you cannot fraternise with children so below your station. If you want friends, I will find some for you. Some of my knights have boys your age. You will play with them. _Not_ with this boy."

"Yes, Father," Arthur said obediently.

"Now, go to your lessons," Uther commanded. Arthur gave a half-glance at Merlin, who saw both an apology and resentment in those bright blue eyes. He watched the young prince leave, feeling saddened that what could have been a good friendship had been ruined so soon. He then met Uther's steely gaze.

"You are the boy who came with Gorlois." It was a statement, not a question, but Merlin still nodded. "Rest assured I will be sure to inform him that you have been interacting inappropriately with my son. He can punish you as he sees fit."

Merlin wasn't entirely sure what some of those words meant, but he got the gist and felt the need to defend himself.

"We weren't doing anything bad," he said, his voice sounding high and almost squeaky compared to Uther's deep, smooth tones. "We were just racing."

Uther took a sudden hold of the cloth at Merlin's shoulder and shook him. "You are a servant boy, my son is a prince. Do _not_ talk to him again."

Merlin thought the King might strike him, were it not for the sound of gentle footfalls approaching from the herb garden. An older, white-haired man in a long brown robe appeared, carrying a small canvas pouch and a couple of medicine bottles in his hands. He looked from the King to the small boy, still held stationary in his grasp.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head. "Might I ask what's going on?"

"Ah, Gaius," Uther said, releasing his hold on Merlin, who massaged his shoulder where the King's strong grip had pinched it. "I caught my son fraternising with this servant boy. I was just teaching him it is not his place to do so again."

"Mm, quite right, quite right," Gaius nodded sagely, though Merlin thought he looked a little surprised. "I am sure the boy has learned his lesson."

"Could you see that he returns to the kitchens and stays there?" Uther said, brushing off his gloves like the brief contact with Merlin's tunic had sullied them somehow. "I must return to my guests, and make sure my son is now where he should be."

"Of course, Sire," Gaius bowed again and watched the King stroll back to the palace. Once he was out of earshot, he turned to Merlin and bent down. "Does your shoulder hurt?"

Merlin shook his head a little petulantly, still a little resentful at such rough handling.

"It's Merlin, isn't it?"

The boy blinked.

"How do you know?"

Gaius smiled. "I am in correspondence with Hunith, your mother. I was there when you were born."

"Really?" Merlin's eyes widened. He looked like a startled baby animal.

_So,_ thought Gaius, _this is the boy._ He was relieved at how little he resembled Gorlois, though he could certainly see elements of his mother in him – especially in his eyes and defined facial structure. He doubted anyone had looked so close as to spot these similarities as well, though. There was definitely nothing in his features, manner or gait to suggest he was of nobility.

"Let me look at your shoulder," Gaius said. He had a peculiar way of speaking – a strange way of pronunciation that was unlike anything Merlin had heard before. He allowed Gaius to gently pull aside the thin blue cloth of his shirt, revealing a set of small, purple bruises already forming where Uther's leather-gloved finger had been moments before. A flash of pity passed over Gaius's face and he stood up straight. "Come with me," he said. "I have some serum which will help the bruising."

Merlin followed the old physician back to the palace and through several passageways to an airy room cluttered with benches of scientific equipment and shelves creaking under the weight of dozens of thick, leather-bound books. The only homey thing Merlin could see was a small bed shoved into one corner, almost like an afterthought when the room was being designed, a slightly moth-eaten nightcap slung over the wooden bedstead.

"Right," Gaius said, setting down his bag and bottles on a nearby workbench and beginning to search through a drawer. "Sit yourself there." He indicated a small wooden stool to his left, which Merlin perched on. His fingers were itching to play with the various fascinating instruments and scientific tools, and he ended up sitting on them in an attempt to control himself.

"Now," Gaius said, turning back to face Merlin with a small pot of yellowish paste in his hand, a pair of half-rim spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. "This might sting a little bit – just try to keep still."

Merlin tensed his muscles and tried not to twitch as Gaius applied the paste – which, yes, _did_ sting – to the marks blossoming on his pale skin.

"That'll help," Gaius said, peering at Merlin over the rims of his glasses. "Just try not to get into any more trouble while you're here."

"But we weren't doing anything," Merlin protested. "We were just playing."

"With the King's son, Merlin," Gaius said, clicking his tongue. "Uther doesn't like servants acting above their station. That's something you'll have to learn in future – know your place."

"That's stupid," Merlin grumbled, swinging his legs and staring at his knees.

Gaius smiled. "Perhaps," he said. "But that's just how it is. The King makes the rules, and we live by them. Us _and_ Arthur. To be honest, I'm surprised he was so willing to play with you. He's quite a solitary boy."

"He was bored," Merlin shrugged.

"Well, I'm sure the King will find him some friends more . . ." Gaius sighed, "_appropriate_ for him to play with."

Merlin pouted but didn't say anything. Gaius considered him for a moment, then placed the pot of yellow paste into his small hands. "Just in case you _do_ get into any more trouble," he said with a wry smirk.

"Thanks," Merlin grinned and Gaius sighed inwardly. The boy seemed so genuine and good-natured, it was such a shame he _couldn't_ be Arthur's friend – could do him the world of good. But there was no way of convincing Uther of that.

"Um, I'd better be going," Merlin said, squirming a little on his stool. "Lord Gorlois'll want me back in the servants' rooms. Where I belong," he added glumly.

"Alright," Gaius gave his shoulder a quick pat. "If you need me for anything – limb-loss ointment, maybe – the other servants can show you were to find me."

"Okay," Merlin laughed. "Thanks again."

Gaius watched thoughtfully as the small boy darted across the room and out of the door, giving one last wave as it disappeared from sight. He was a bright lad, there was no mistake. It was such a shame life had dealt him such a poor deck, and Gaius himself had been party to it. It seemed only right he should try to deal the boy a better hand, even if it was just one card. He'd been considering employing someone to help him out in the apothecary, fetching herbs and running errands and the like. Merlin seemed a likely candidate for the post. He'd just have to convince Uther to allow the boy a place in his service. Shouldn't be too hard – he trusted Gaius' opinion enough to listen, anyway. Then perhaps, in a few years, the boy might even earn a place higher than just Gaius' dogsbody. If he could become if not a friend to Arthur then a confidant, it could have a positive effect on both of them.

Gaius gave a private nod to steady his resolve, and set off to speak to Uther.


End file.
